


Another Good Man Goes to War

by GrumpyJenn



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not a nice man, but is he a good one?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stormcage

“He’s the best man I’ve ever known.”

Father Octavian despised River Song for what she had done. But though her voice had been steady and her face serene, the look in her eyes when she said those words at her trial had touched him. Just for a moment, he had felt... pity... for the Doctor’s killer. He shook his head as though to clear it. She didn’t deserve his pity. And yet... no. She was a killer, a monster, and she deserved Stormcage.

“Hello, Bishop,” said the young cleric, and saluted. “We’ve reports of a... a _thing_ in the hold of the _Byzantium_ spaceliner. She’s going to crash on Alfava Metraxis, and they’re sending _her_. She’s trying to earn a pardon and she says she can call an army.” There was a detectable sneer in the young man’s voice, and although he agreed that River Song was a wretched example of a human being, Octavian said sharply, “You don’t have to like her, Private, but no matter her sins, she’s still human. Show some courtesy at least.” The cleric had the grace to look abashed, saluted again, and left the room.

And then they brought in River Song.

Father Octavian regarded his prisoner with deceptive calm. He was seething inwardly, because what _right_ had this woman to treat her just punishment in Stormcage as a mere inconvenience to her apparently busy social life? According to the records, she made a habit of just packing up and leaving whenever she liked, and although he admitted grudgingly to himself that she never permanently injured anyone in her escapes, her sheer unmitigated gall made him feel like she was laughing at him. At _them_ , he quickly amended in his mind, of course it had nothing to do with him personally. But there she stood, handcuffed, with a sardonic half-smile on her face that made him want to slap her. He cleared his throat. “Well, Doctor Song,” he began, “I understand we have a little problem.” She nodded, cautiously, it seemed to him. “And you have an army somehow, at your command? Do share the details.”

“I can give you the equivalent of an army, Bishop,” she asserted, though her voice was soft, “if you allow me to call it in my own way. Can’t be reached through the normal channels, you understand.” She tried a sexy little smile on him, but seeing that it didn’t move him at all let it drain off her face, looking suddenly tired and frightened like the prisoner she was. That got his attention; it seemed that she wasn’t as tough as her persona would indicate. For just one moment she had looked like any other woman in trying circumstances, and he wondered if she did it deliberately. He rather thought not. He cleared his throat again.

“Very well, Doctor,” he said. He noticed a flicker of unbearable pain on her face as she absorbed his use of the title _Doctor_ without her name, and then she quickly schooled her features back into that mocking half-smile. “If you willingly remand yourself into my legal custody - and give me your word that you won’t use this opportunity to escape - I will let you call your army in your own fashion.” He looked down at his desk, dismissing her without words, and then realised she hadn’t left the room. “Yes?” he said, looking up again, “What is it?” He noticed that although her face was completely expressionless and calm again, her eyes looked like they had in the courtroom at her trial.

“Bishop, may I be frank?” she asked and he nodded assent. “Thank you. You don’t like me, and the feeling is mutual. I think you’re a hard and unforgiving man. But I also think you’re a good one, and I heard what you said to that boy before I came in. Thank you.” She nodded at him. “I’ll make up a list of what I need to carry out this mission and have it on your desk in the morning.”

And then she saluted as best she could with her hands cuffed, and left the room.


	2. A Good Man, But Cold

River sighed as she wrote the list. She _really_ disliked the man, the bishop, but she was honest enough with herself to know that at least part of that was her own issues with the Church.

_Evening Gown, Hot Rollers, Lipstick, Sunglasses, Size Six Heels..._

She had been honest with him too. He _was_ a hard and unforgiving man, but she thought he was a good one. He did what he felt was right, and if that was rigid and unbending, well... he’d unbent enough to allow her to do this her way. Although once he saw this list - she smirked inwardly - he’d probably second-guess that decision. But he’d stick to it anyway, because keeping his promises was part of his character, part of what _made_ him a good man.

_Pulse Pistol, Byzantium Travel Coordinates..._

But when she asked the cleric to put the list on the Bishop’s desk, she noticed that the young cleric was far more polite than any of them had been in months. Dammit, she _wanted_ to hate him... but she couldn’t. Not entirely, because he _was_ a good man. An uptight arse of a man, but a good one nonetheless.

After all was said and done, and she’d escaped the Byzantium for the TARDIS, and been reunited with the Doctor (so young!) and Amy (even younger), she stood on the windswept shore of Alfava Metraxis near the crashed ship. She asked the Doctor to sonic her, knowing it was the sort of suggestive remark that would fluster him and amuse Amy, and then he was there with his clerics. A good man, but a cold one.

So cold.


	3. A Good Man Went to War

Dr. Song was such an odd mix. She appeared to love and actually _said_ she trusted the Doctor, and yet she’d killed him. Or would. Even in the face of the young clerics dying - and although his dislike of her was strong he could see she regretted each of those deaths - she trusted the Doctor. He shouldn’t have let her get to him, threatened her. Because when he did, although her face was tight with anger, her eyes were anguished again, and Father Octavian felt as though he had been unjust. Of _course_ she wouldn’t let the Doctor know what she was... it was in her own best interest not to.

And the Doctor led them through the maze, realising the Angels were all around them, doing ridiculous and undignified things like jumping into the air to escape. Using cover fire as a light source. Chatting with an Angel who had killed Cleric Bob as though there was nothing wrong (until you looked at his eyes, which were just as anguished as Dr. Song’s). Being smug and _flirting_ with the woman when they’d given him up for dead.

And then it was just the two of them. Father Octavian and the Doctor. And the Weeping Angel who was going to kill him, kill them both if he didn’t sacrifice himself. But he’d seen enough of the Doctor by now to know that no matter what, the alien would not rest until he’d wiped each and every Angel off the face of this planet. He still did not understand how the Song woman would kill this man she purportedly loved, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the mission would be accomplished, the people of this planet safe.

And so he was content.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The three of them, the only three left, climbed wearily out of the wreckage of the _Byzantium_. Amy was complaining loudly about bruising her shins, and the Doctor was telling her she needn’t keep her eyes shut, so he almost missed River surreptitiously wiping away a tear. He moved closer to her, keeping an eye on her even as he more or less dragged Amy along behind him. “Alright, Professor Song?” he asked in an undertone.

She nodded and glanced at him, and although her eyes were full of tears, her voice was steady and quiet. “He was a good man, wasn’t he?” The Doctor didn’t pretend he misunderstood. He nodded and she let out a sigh. There was a gust of wind as they broke out onto the surface, and her voice was so quiet that he almost didn’t hear what she said next.

“Another good man has gone to war because of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always felt about Octavian the same way River does in this story; I can't *like* him, but I can see that he is a good man.


End file.
